Beneath his Scars

Chapter 9: The First Name

Chapter 9: The First Name

The next morning, Fiona found herself standing outside Room 36 with two cups of coffee in her hands.

One was from the hospital cafeteria.

The other was from a small café a few blocks away.

The hospital coffee was there purely for comparison.

And possibly evidence.

She balanced both cups carefully before nudging the door open with her shoulder.

"Good morning."

The familiar voice came from near the window.

Fiona looked up.

Grey was already awake.

Sunlight spilled across the room, illuminating the sharp angles of his face as he sat propped against several pillows. A book rested on his lap, though she suspected he hadn't turned a page in several minutes.

The moment their eyes met, something unexpected happened.

"Morning, Fiona."

She stopped walking.

Completely stopped.

For a second, she wondered if she'd imagined it.

Grey looked mildly concerned.

"Did I say something wrong?"

Fiona blinked.

"No."

A pause.

Then:

"You called me Fiona."

His expression shifted ever so slightly.

Almost as though he hadn't realized he'd done it.

"Oh."

"Oh?" she repeated.

He cleared his throat.

"You call me Grey."

"That's different."

"How?"

"Because you're impossible."

One corner of his mouth lifted.

"There it is."

"There what is?"

"The daily insult."

"I don't insult you daily."

"You absolutely do."

Fiona placed both cups on the side table.

"I professionally assess your personality."

Grey looked horrified.

"That's worse."

She laughed.

A real laugh.

The kind that escaped before she could stop it.

Something warm settled in her chest.

Because hearing her name from him felt strangely significant.

Not romantic.

Not yet.

Just... personal.

Like a door opening a fraction wider.

---

Grey's eyes drifted toward the coffee cups.

"What are those?"

Fiona folded her arms.

"An experiment."

"I'm already concerned."

"You should be."

She held up the hospital coffee.

"This is Exhibit A."

Then she held up the second cup.

"Exhibit B."

Grey eyed both suspiciously.

"Am I participating willingly?"

"No."

"Thought so."

Fiona handed him the café coffee.

His eyebrows rose slightly after the first sip.

The reaction was subtle.

Most people wouldn't have noticed.

Fiona did.

"Better?"

Grey looked at the cup.

Then at her.

Then back at the cup.

"Considerably."

"Ha."

"You seem proud."

"I am."

"Of coffee?"

"Of proving that your criticism was justified."

He nodded thoughtfully.

"The hospital coffee still tastes like disappointment."

Fiona groaned.

"We discussed this."

"It's an accurate description."

"It isn't."

"It absolutely is."

She shook her head.

"You're hopeless."

"So I've been told."

"Frequently?"

"More than you'd think."

Their eyes met.

And for a brief moment, both of them smiled.

---

As Fiona checked his chart, she noticed how much stronger he looked.

His color had improved.

The dark circles beneath his eyes had faded slightly.

Even his posture was better.

Slowly but surely, his body was recovering.

His mind, however, remained more difficult to read.

"How's the shoulder?"

"Fine."

"The ribs?"

"Fine."

"The leg?"

"Fine."

Fiona narrowed her eyes.

"You're giving me exceptionally detailed answers today."

"I'm trying something new."

"It's not working."

Grey looked disappointed.

"That's unfortunate."

She made a few notes.

Then glanced up.

"So."

His expression immediately became wary.

"So?"

"What do you do when you're not pretending to be a terrible patient?"

"I am an excellent patient."

"You argued with me about coffee for ten minutes."

"I was advocating for quality standards."

"Sure."

Grey looked entirely serious.

Which somehow made it funnier.

Fiona settled into the chair beside his bed.

"You know what I've realized?"

"Dangerous sentence."

"I know almost nothing about your life."

His eyes narrowed slightly.

"That's intentional."

"There it is again."

"There what is?"

"The mysterious soldier routine."

"I don't have a mysterious soldier routine."

"You absolutely do."

He looked unconvinced.

Fiona decided to change tactics.

"Fine. Let's talk about me."

"That seems safer."

She pointed accusingly.

"Was that sarcasm?"

"Maybe."

"I'm corrupting you."

"You should probably lose your medical license."

She laughed again.

"Too late."

---

For several moments, neither spoke.

The silence felt comfortable now.

Strange how quickly things could change.

A few weeks ago, every conversation with Grey had felt like pulling teeth.

Now they could sit quietly without the tension swallowing the room.

Then Grey surprised her.

"You mentioned your son."

Fiona looked up.

"TJ?"

He nodded.

"How old is he?"

A smile immediately appeared on her face.

"Twelve."

Grey visibly winced.

"What?"

"Twelve is a dangerous age."

Fiona burst out laughing.

"Dangerous?"

"I survived being twelve."

"Should I be worried?"

"Extremely."

She shook her head.

"He's actually a good kid."

"I'm sure that's what all parents say."

"It's true."

Grey folded his arms.

"Does he get into trouble?"

"Occasionally."

"That means yes."

"Fine. Yes."

A grin tugged at her lips.

"Last month he convinced his grandmother that our dog needed a birthday party."

Grey blinked.

"A dog."

"A dog."

"A birthday party."

"A very expensive birthday party."

For the first time, genuine amusement appeared in Grey's eyes.

"What happened?"

"He invited people."

Grey stared.

"People."

"Five classmates."

His expression finally cracked.

A low chuckle escaped him.

"He sounds resourceful."

"He's a menace."

"You sound proud."

"I am proud."

The admission came easily.

Because she was.

TJ drove her crazy on a regular basis.

But he was kind.

Funny.

Smart.

And somehow capable of making every room brighter.

"What's he like?" Grey asked.

The question caught her off guard.

Not because it was intrusive.

Because he sounded genuinely interested.

Fiona smiled softly.

"He's stubborn."

Grey immediately nodded.

"Definitely your son."

She gasped.

"Excuse me?"

"He inherited it from somewhere."

"Rude."

"Accurate."

Fiona rolled her eyes.

"He loves football. Hates homework. Eats enough food to bankrupt me."

"That also sounds normal."

"It gets worse."

"I'm listening."

"He discovered online videos about cooking."

Grey's expression became cautious.

"Oh no."

"Oh yes."

"The kitchen survived?"

"Barely."

The memory made her laugh.

"TJ decided he could make pancakes."

"What happened?"

"He forgot the flour."

Grey stared.

"How?"

"I still don't know."

For a second, silence filled the room.

Then Grey laughed.

Not loudly.

Not dramatically.

But enough.

Enough for Fiona to find herself smiling at him instead of finishing the story.

Enough for her to realize she liked hearing him laugh.

Perhaps a little too much.

And for the first time, neither of them seemed eager to look away.

“Dr. Fiona ” A voice said, An attendant maybe. “Dr. Hailey asked for you” Perfect timing Hailey, she snuck out as soon as possible not missing the... Smile

Smirk.

Or Whatever Grey Ashford did.

Which for some odd reason, made her feel weird....a feeling, A doctor couldn't explain.